


Too Mean Pretense

by tabulaxrasa



Series: Vessels [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Casifer, Dean Finds Out, Dean's self-loathing, Gen, Lucifer kicks Dean's ass because feelings, M/M, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabulaxrasa/pseuds/tabulaxrasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean figures out it's not Cas. Lucifer gets some hits in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Mean Pretense

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Milton's Paradise Lost (for maximum pretentiousness) and in modern English would be something like "too little of a claim".
> 
> Let me know if there are any errors; this has been eating up my head and I just wanted to get it out before it gets Kripke'd.

Dean knew something was wrong with Cas, but something's been wrong with Cas for…a while. And Dean didn't think it was anything worse than what was wrong with Dean himself. Not at first.

He knows now how wrong he was.

He walks into the library to find Cas making a huge mess— again— stacks of books and papers, some of which have clearly been ripped out of books, and treating them with utter carelessness.

Cas wouldn't do that. The wrongness strikes him like a gong.

"Sam's gonna flip out if he sees this," Dean says, as casually as he can.

Cas— or whatever's using Cas— freezes for a moment, before straightening his shoulders. "Hello Dean." The impression is good, Dean'll give them that.

He turns around, and his tie is loosened, the wrong way, jacket missing, and shirt unbuttoned enough his clavicles peak through. Dean hates himself for looking. His eyes are wide, hair mussed, mouth parted slightly, and Dean can't stop noticing. Whoever it is knows what he's doing. Dean remembers Cas's hand on his shoulder, the shoulder Cas almost never touches, the one that never bore Cas's handprint. _Almost_ knows what he's doing.

Dean steels himself, because this is going to get so much worse before it gets better, and he can't let Cas down any more.

"So," Dean continues, aware he's probably not quite hitting casual. "Whatcha looking for?"

"I'm going to need some of your blood," Not-Cas says, coming closer. Dean lets him.

In fact, Dean can't look away from those familiar blue eyes, but this time he's searching them for any hint of Cas. _Are you in there? Can you hear me?_

Not-Cas gives a big sigh and shrug, dropping the act just like that. "Oh well. You finally figured it out. It was fun while it lasted, Deano."

"I wanna talk to Cas," Dean growls.

"Hmm," Cas's face twists up into an exaggerated thinking pout. "Yeah, no, I don't think that's gonna happen. I mean," he grins, and Dean reaches for a blade without thinking about it, because that grin is one of the scariest things he's ever seen. "If you've got a better offer for me, I'll take it. But you don't seem to have a Sam suit anywhere on you, so…" Dean had guessed, but the confirmation is enough to make the room spin. 

"Take me instead." The offer's automatic, really. "I'll say yes."

"Hmmm, tempting." Lucifer scrunches up his face. "But there's just something yucky about wearing your brother's best dress, you know?"

And then Lucifer steps forward and backhands Dean across the room.

Dean flies, so fast he barely understands what's going on before he crashes into the bookshelves. He drops to the floor and books, heavy and sharp, rain down around him. His back is electrified pain that only builds as the initial shock wears off and his nerves start reporting in. His angel blade is gone.

" _God,_ you guys are so pathetic. I can't believe you put me in the Cage."

Lucifer strides toward him and Dean tries to push himself up. _Die on your feet._ The books are heavy and he's shaky, wind knocked out of him. His arms won't hold him up, and he collapses again to the floor.

"I had to put him to sleep because I couldn't stand to listen to him mooning over you all the time."

Lucifer snaps his fingers. All the books fall on Dean again.

"Really?" Dean wheezes back. That was just childish.

Lucifer cocks his head to the side, but it's not like Cas at all. How could Dean have not _seen it,_ how could he have been fooled, even for a second?

Lucifer crouches down. They're not on the same level, but closer. Dean doubts this will be in any way good for him. "It's sad, really. Castiel's the biggest loser in school pining after the high school quarterback." Lucifer squints at him. "I don't see it, myself. What he sees in you." There's a chill in Dean's chest, like cold-burning whiskey. He doesn't want Lucifer to talk about Cas.

Lucifer stands up and wanders away, turns his back to Dean like Dean's no threat. Because he's not. 

"He thinks he's your _best friend,_ " Lucifer sneers, and that's it, that's what Dean can't take. He climbs to his feet, almost everything in him screaming to not do that. "But he's not even that anymore, is he Dean? Poor Castiel just wants to be near you, isn't that disgusting? He's okay with always being second, that's what gets me. If you bring me Sam, I'll let you have this pathetic excuse for an angel back. But you won't, will you? You never ever will." Lucifer is not even looking at him, busy gathering the books he wants. Shaking his head, sounding disappointed.

"He's given up everything for you, again and again," Lucifer continues, and Dean can't think of any way to make him stop. He desperately wants him to stop. "And you didn't even notice he was gone."

Dean's rage overwhelms everything else— common sense, pain— and he charges Lucifer. Lucifer casually catches Dean by the neck of the shirt and lifts him up. "You've broken everyone who's ever loved you," Lucifer continues. "I guess we have that in common." He throws Dean into a wall again.

It's not as hard this time, and not into a bookshelf, and Dean manages to get back on his feet much quicker, despite the loud crack his head made when he hit the wall. He spits out some blood. "Do you ever shut up? No wonder your dad got sick of you."

The devil laughs. "That's cute. But we're not talking about me, here." Lucifer frowns, almost thoughtful. "I might— _might_ — let you talk to Castiel again before I kill you. Only because it would be funny, you understand." Lucifer starts walking around the table toward him, and all of Dean's instincts are screaming that nothing good can ever come from a walk like that. "He's _so in love_ with you," Lucifer says, in the tone someone might use to say 'the dog threw up in my slippers'. "And you are _so_ indifferent. Or so afraid."

Dean does not want to hear this. Not from the devil. Dean wants to kill him just for saying this shit. "He doesn't— He's not… You're lying."

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "Please. Don't worry, I let little Castiel hear everything you said about Amara. You can have a nice, awkward conversation about how he loves you more than Heaven and all of his real family and you'd still rather bang something evil in a low-cut dress."

Blood keeps filling his mouth, and Dean has to spit again before he can talk, but his voice is strong with conviction. "You're wrong." 

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. "Am I, Dean? You know, it's funny. I don't even like Castiel but I still want to punch you in the face! And I didn't think I had any fraternal feelings left."

Lucifer does punch him in the face. Dean has taken more than his share of punches to the face, but humans are not made to be punched by archangels, and Dean flies across the room again. More books fall and his head is ringing. He's gonna throw up, as soon as he figures out which way is up. And yet, his face is not a mass of blood and bone fragments and broken teeth, so Lucifer pulled his punch. That's almost worse.

"That was for my little brother," Lucifer says. He shakes himself out. "Whoo, glad I got that out of my system. It was weird." He kicks Dean in the stomach. It's like being hit by a car.

"Now," Lucifer says calmly, squatting next to Dean. "I needed some blood."

Dean's bleeding in at least three places that he can see without moving his head, but Lucifer still uses his angel blade to cut Dean's arm. Dick.

"Cas," Dean groans, because talking and breathing are hard. His jaw is misaligned. "Talk to Cas."

Lucifer shakes his head. "I'm not killing you now, Winchester. Still need you to defeat Amara. This was just for funsies. A few home truths." He has a vial to Dean's arm, and pokes the wound to make it fill a little faster. 

"Cas," Dean says, more insistent. He looks for Cas's eyes. They've never looked less like Cas. "Cas," he says, without looking away, because Cas _is_ in there somewhere, "Cas, I'll get you out. We'll…I'll find a way. I promise. I'll save you." He chokes on the blood on his mouth.

The devil stands up abruptly, all teasing gone from his expression. "That's enough, I think." He studies Dean for a moment. "I suppose I still need you alive…" he bends back down and touches two fingers to Dean's head.

He doesn't have to touch Dean to heal him; he's doing this on purpose. Dean's been healed by other angels before, but he can feel this is _wrong,_ the devil's grace sliding through him, bones knitting back together, pain lifting off and leaving only the memory of it behind. 

"He thinks you're the best human that's ever lived, the best thing since _Dad,_ that's how gone on you he is. But you and I know the truth, don't we Dean?" The devil's voice goes low, whispering secrets. "You're the worst thing that's ever happened to him." 

For a moment, Dean thinks Lucifer is doing something to his chest, because he can't breathe. But no, he didn't need to touch Dean. The devil doesn't lie, Dean remembers. He doesn't have to. 

Lucifer's gone in a moment— he can't fly but he can still move faster than anything else, if he wants to. He takes his books and research and Dean's blood and leaves.

It's a long time before Dean can bring himself to sit up. And then he only sits on the ground with his back to the wall, knees pulled up like there's anything to hide behind. He covers his eyes with his palms, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

After a moment Dean sobs, once, the sound filling the space as the pain bubbles over too much to contain it. It feels selfish to cry, like he hasn't earned the right to tears, so that's all he can allow himself. 

Dean doesn't know if Lucifer didn't heal him all the way or if this is all emotional pain. He sits without moving as it grows dark and cold around him. He hears Lucifer's voice, the words he meant to sting. Thinks about Cas and his sad, listless eyes over the past couple of months. How similar it was to the way Cas acted when he was a human, banished from his home with Dean. And Dean hadn't seen it, because he'd been avoiding Cas, afraid to be drawn in again, to get his hopes up again. 

He and Cas are like blind elephants in a china shop, blundering around breaking each other's hearts like cheap teacups. And this is all on Dean— Cas takes his cues from Dean, something Dean has been trying not to acknowledge for years. Dean taught him feelings are bad and expressing emotion is something done only under duress. Dean taught him that family and duty come first, no matter what you might want for yourself. That what you want doesn't matter. Dean had been so busy trying to protect himself he hadn't seen that Cas needed help, badly.

And now Lucifer's wearing Cas like a cheap suit and Dean can't do shit about it. Lucifer will only leave Cas for Sam, and they can't get rid of Lucifer until he's taken out Amara. Their fucking lives.

Finally, he hears the door open again.

"Dean?"

He can't answer; he waits for Sam to find him, sitting in the dark in the wrecked room. "What the hell happened in here? Dean! Are you okay?"

Dean can smell the take out Sam brought home and has now dropped to the floor; his stomach rolls.

"Dean!" Sam is crouching next to him, familiar and safe but it's not helping. There's panic in Sam's voice and in the tension in his movements. "Dean, answer me! Are you okay?"

Dean does not take his hands away from his eyes. "I fucked up, Sam," he whispers. "I really fucked up."

**Author's Note:**

> And then they found some way to defeat Amara, defeat Lucifer, and lived happily ever after. :D?
> 
> (Actually, I'm going to try and write more of this; I don't like leaving things so bleak.)


End file.
